


Internship

by PieHeda



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Ankle Cuffs, BDSM, Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, F/F, Flogging, Leather, Paddling, Punishment, Submission, Wrist Cuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 20:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieHeda/pseuds/PieHeda
Summary: Michaela has a new boss to impress.Spoilers for 4x04.





	Internship

**Author's Note:**

> There was no existing Michaela/Tegan tag, and I'm not getting any results searching Tegan Price, so I seem to be the first on this ship. That's exciting! I hope I'm not the last.

Michaela stood, fully naked, and held a tray.

She had figured out the trick to standing still. All she had to do was not think too hard about it. She took her orders, planted her bare feet, felt the floor firm beneath them, and then focused on something else.

Not the black lacquered steel tray, certainly not the swirling gold and red design on its surface. Not the green glass bottle of mineral water, or the sweat beading and dripping down it. Not the frosted highball glass, with precisely three ice cubes in it.

Actual cubes - square, like at a fancy cocktail bar.  _ How in the hell does someone get square ice? _ she wondered.  

_ Don’t think about it too hard _ . If she stared at the water in the bottle, soon it would tremble and shake, and the pool of condensation would begin to roll. Perfection, sometimes, required exerting less effort. Not an easy lesson, but she was here to learn.

Instead, she simply kept tabs on the items on the tray in her peripheral vision as she stared past them to Tegan undressing.

Tegan took her time, as if this were simply the end of a long day at work (which, of course, was not entirely inaccurate). She slid off her heels and then her nude stockings. She wore actual stockings, which delighted Michaela. Something about knowing that this woman rolled on stockings every morning instead of wrestling herself into a pair of pantyhose added a bit of confirmation that Tegan Price did everything with elegance.

She paused to massage her feet, groaning with relief. Then she removed her black blazer, her white sleeveless shell blouse, and her black skirt, and hung each of them and placed them on a hook on the outside of a mahogany wardrobe. She stretched languidly, fully displaying her body clothed only in a black, longline strapless bra, and high-waisted black panties - another casual gesture, as if she were alone. Her lingerie combined with her hairstyle and makeup reminded Michaela of a vintage pinup model. She felt herself grow wet. The tray trembled slightly. She breathed, and steadied herself.

Then Tegan opened the wardrobe. The lamp on that side of the room sat behind the wardrobe, and Michaela couldn’t make out the contents of it from where she stood. She wanted desperately to get a tour of it, and be shown one by one all of the wonders within. Or to sneak into it, to run her fingers over these forbidden items like a child searching for Christmas presents in Mommy’s closet. What might the punishment be for such a transgression?

From the darkness, Tegan produced a few items of clothing and began to dress. She hooked a garter belt around her waist, and then sat on the sofa while she rolled on black stockings, and then clipped them to the garter straps. She slid a black mesh camisole over her head, and zipped herself into a tight black skirt - no different from her work skirt, really, except that it was snug in the thighs, trapping her knees together. She pulled on shiny black heels, impossibly high compared to her normal, elegant work heels. She stood, and finished the outfit by buttoning on a jacket that pulled in too tight at the waist, accentuating her bust. Like the skirt, the jacket wasn’t very different from her professional wear, but the lines were all angles. It looked sharp enough to cut.

She withdrew to the wardrobe and stepped forward from it with three items in her hands, then finally approached Michaela. Michaela dutifully kept her eyes forward, choosing a spot - the ornamental trim on top of the wardrobe - to focus on. Her eyes itched from tracking Tegan’s movement only with her peripheral vision.

Tegan stepped in front of her, and took the glass bottle and poured the sparkling water over the ice. Michaela recalled the first time, when she had leaned in to hand off the tray. Amateur mistake. The burning sting in her cheek moments later had taught her not to repeat that error.

Tegan sipped the water, and then sighed pleasantly.

“Hello Michaela,” she said, her tone deceptively warm.

These were the first words she’d spoken since Michaela had walked downstairs with the tray of items, following to the letter the instructions left for her on a note in the kitchen when she arrived.

“You can put that down now,” she added. Michaela walked to the black pub table by the wall, and set the tray upon it. Her arms ached as she lowered them, and she resisted the urge to link her hands behind her back and stretch. She stepped to the side and returned her eyes to the top of the wardrobe. She waited as Tegan approached and took another sip of her drink, and then regarded her.

“Why are you here today, Michaela?”

“Disobedience.” She spoke quietly but firmly, without hesitation.

“Indeed. What did I tell you to do?”

“You wanted a glass of water at work today, with three ice cubes.”

“Three.” Tegan nodded. “No more, no less. Was I not specific?”

“You were. Very.”

“Did something prevent you from carrying out my request? Some shortage, some failure out of your control?”

“No ma’am.”

“No.” Tegan shook her head, and placed the glass on the tray. “So you admit that your obedience was intentional?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Ms. Price.”

“Surely you knew there would be consequences.”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked slightly.

“Tell me then, Michaela, why? Why would you willfully disobey me?”

Again, she felt a surge of wetness, accompanied by a throbbing pulse in her clit.  

She felt a nervous fluttering in her chest from the rush of fear mixed with excitement, and drew a sharp breath.

“I want you to punish me.”

“Look at me.”

For the first time this evening, Michaela looked Tegan in the eyes. Tegan smiled, as if amused at her own thoughts.

She placed her hand on Michaela’s cheek, and let her eyes scan the younger woman’s face. She stroked her thumb over her lips, traced the line of her jaw with a single finger.

Michaela held her head firm and upright. Relaxing into her touch wasn’t safe now. It would rob her of the time needed to brace for a slap.

“You’re a good girl, Michaela,” said Tegan. “My best intern this semester. Always efficient, always ready to please. Always eager,” she said, and brought her face close enough that Michaela could smell her subtle perfume. She loved that she could only smell it when she was allowed to be this close to Tegan; it was a gift, an affirmation that she’d earned the right to be here.

“I even like your disobedience,” Tegan said, turning and walking to retrieve the items she’d removed from the wardrobe. “You could be like me one day. Would you like that? Taking what you want, deciding who gets punished, and how?”

“Yes, Ms. Price.”

“It requires great self-control,” Tegan said. “Self-control that you failed to show when you chased Annalise out of the office today.”

Michaela’s eyes rounded, and panic rose in her chest. Her feet felt nervous, and she struggled to remain planted in place.

“I’m not here to punish you for ice. For that? I’d make you stay late searching down numbers for me in a stack of phone records, then slap your ass a couple of times before sending you home. Today, you let your emotions get the best of you. Which I specifically told you not to do. I told you I hate most of the people in the firm. What else did I say?”

“You work with them anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a boss bitch.”

Tegan held up her hand.

“Tell me what this is.”

“Leather flogger,” Michaela said.

“And this?” she proffered the next item.

“Wooden paddle.”

“And finally, this.”

The object was small, and it moved and clicked sharply as Tegan snapped it open with her thumb.

“An EMT knife.”

It had an angled, mean-looking blade. The handle had an odd-looking hook in it, with a razor embedded in it below the edge, for safety. It nearly panicked her into stopping the first time Tegan showed it to her.

“If I have the knife, what does that mean?”

“Leather cuffs. Or ropes.”

“Or both,” said Tegan. “It’s here if you need out immediately. What do you say if it’s getting to be too much?”

“Yellow if I need to pause. Red to stop immediately. Apocalypse if I need to be cut free.”

“Good. Go to your position.”

Michaela positioned herself below a black vinyl rope, suspended from a frame, with a large brass ring at the end.

Tegan walked back to the wardrobe and returned with a black wooden box, no bigger than a shoebox. She retrieved leather cuffs from the box and bound each of Michaela’s ankles with them, and then locked them in place to black vinyl ropes attached to the sides of the frames. Then she bound her wrists with a smaller set of cuffs, and linked them to the rope above, so that Michaela’s wrists hung level with her eyes.

Tegan made a few adjustments, testing for comfort - she had Michaela lean into the restraints and put her weight on them, and adjusted and readjusted the length of the ropes around her ankles, so that her legs were parted without making it difficult for her to stay upright.

Once she was satisfied, she stood behind Michaela with the flogger. She dragged the soft suede laces over her back, across her buttocks.

“This is punishment Michaela. This isn’t something you get to demand from me by acting out. You want me to wear your ass out? Tell me so. An ass like yours? I’d do that just for fun.”

She flicked her wrist, and the flogger struck sideways across Michaela’s left cheek. A soft strike, just a warm up. Michaela inhaled, and felt all of her tension gather. She fought the urge to wriggle in excitement.

“This isn’t for you. It’s for me. I want the satisfaction of breaking you down for your disobedience.”

Another strike, similar to the first, on the right cheek.

“And I want you to learn that if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do what I say. You’ll hate Annalise, and smile and work with her anyway. You’ll hate that little bitch-face Simon, and say the nicest things to him, and beat his ass in the Hell Bowl.”

She punctuated her words with strikes that grew progressively harder;  _ hate _ ,  _ smile _ ,  _ bitch _ ,  _ nicest _ ,  _ beat.  _ She placed her hand on Michaela’s ass, feeling the heat left by her work.

“Understand me?”

“Yes, Ms. Price,” Michaela said, her voice only barely less than even.

“Good. You seem to be warmed up. Let’s begin.”

Michaela leaned forward slightly, and bit her lip. The flogger came down, harder than before. It’s thick strands landed with a satisfying thud, and Michaela exhaled ecstatically. She breathed in, and out again on the next thud. Tegan flogged her again, and again, left then right. She knew this meant that Tegan kept the flogger moving between swings, and she wished she had a wall mirror so she could watch her bring it around in an arc, side to side.

Instead, she locked her eyes on the leather cuffs. Custom made, hand-dyed, cherry red. The color reminded Michaela of shoes and lipstick - the first heels she’d owned that came from an actual department store, the first cosmetics she’d bought at Sephora. She bought these Freshman year with money earned waitressing. She later learned that subtler colors can hold power as well, but she still had an emotional reaction to cherry red. The cuffs were edged in black. She liked looking at the transition in the color, the gradual fade from red to black. She liked the black stitching, in perfect lines.  _ Saddle-stitched by hand _ , Tegan had said.  _ Lined with lambskin, veg-tan, no chrome-tan in my gear _ . She had no idea what that meant, but she memorized the details as if it might come up in the Hell Bowl.

She pulled against the cuffs for the first time, straining them against their brass hardware. The leather creaked. Her shoulders felt pinched and tight, residually sore from holding the tray, and now from leaning against the cuffs. A sweat began to break out on Michaela’s brow. Four hits later, and she groaned for the first time.

Tegan paused, and chuckled softly. She ran her palm over Michaela’s backside. Her hand registered as cool against Michaela’s hot skin.

“I can ease off. Flog your back, your thighs.”

She cupped Michaela’s cheek, curled her fingers to grip it.

Michaela drew a sharp breath.

“Please, Ms. Price,” she said, her voice dry. “I like this. I like when you whip my ass.”

“Very well.” She could hear the smile in her voice. No sooner did Tegan pull her hand away than the flogger came down again, thudding hard against her ass, and then again.

And then again, harder. And harder still. It wasn’t like punching or pounding, more spread out, but still a thudding sensation over and over, and she began to throb. A bruised sensation surfaced and grew. Another strike, and she cried out. Tegan eased off to light swats, and Michaela panted and struggled to calm herself. When her breathing quieted and slowed, Tegan increased the force again, taking three more strikes before Michaela’s voice broke. She leaned into the cuffs, let them take most of her weight as her knees weakened beneath her.

Tegan stopped again. She let the laces of the flogger dangle softly onto Michaela’s skin, running them up her thigh, dragging them slowly between her cheeks. Michaela drew uneven breaths. The softness of the laces went between feeling soothing and unbearably ticklish on her sensitive, bruised skin.

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” Tegan said. She positioned herself behind Michaela with her palm cupped on the curve of her hip and her skirt just barely pressed against Michaela’s ass. She ran the flogger over Michaela’s lower back, slowly.

“Amazing,” Michaela exhaled.

“Be specific.”

“My ass,” Michaela licked her lips, “feels warm, it’s already sore. My legs feel like jelly. My cunt,” she drew in a breath then plowed forward, too late to turn back, “feels swollen, and wet, and ready.”

Silence.

Tegan had never fucked her. Michaela had no idea if she ever would, but she wanted it from the minute she laid eyes on her. As Tegan began to trust her with more work, and as she began to trust Tegan with her pain threshold, she wanted it more and more. She would squirm in her seat at work after Tegan praised her, or better still, trusted her to lead a team of other interns. She watched her every move. She studied her courtroom arguments. She soaked her panties regularly, and sometimes spent her break time in the ladies room, frantically rubbing her clit just so she could get off and clear her head.

“I know you’re wet. I can smell it on you,” Tegan said finally, the words rolling from her mouth so sensually it was as if she were tasting them. She ran her hand down her ass, and slid it along her leg. She moved her hand up Michaela’s thigh slowly, until her finger just brushed against her sex. Michaela’s heartbeat raced, and her breath came as heavy as it had during the flogging.

Tegan slid her hand back up and brought it around to her hip, and helped Michaela stand upright.

“Let’s move to the sofa.”

Michaela nodded, and Tegan unhooked her ankles from the ropes, and then her hands. She led her by the cuffs as they walked to the couch.

“Face down. Ass in the air.”

Michaela got on her hands and knees on the couch, then prostrated herself, resting her forehead on her arms just below the cuffs.

Tegan latched the ankle cuffs together, then glided the smooth, polished wooden paddle over her buttocks.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” Michaela breathed.

She smacked her repeatedly, light taps. Then a pause, Michaela imagined her drawing back her hand, and the paddle popped loudly. The resulting sting blossomed from the point of impact. She removed the paddle, another pause, Michaela held her breath.

_ POP. _

Her body jolted. She smiled into her arms.

_ POP _ .

Harder this time. Her ass, and thighs, and cunt vibrated as she absorbed the shock.

_ POP. _

Harder. She felt it in every part of her. Even her erect nipples grazed the sofa as the impact pushed her forward. She moaned ecstatically.

Tegan brought the paddle down again, and again, until Michaela gritted her teeth and leaned back into the stinging blows. All of her tension from work, her tight muscles from tonight’s session, everything seemed to roll up into a ball and go away until there was nothing left, until she felt herself crack and then fall apart.

She collapsed, leaning into the cushions of the couch.

Everything whirled around her and Tegan had her upright, unlocking the cuffs and unbuckling them. Michaela watched as Tegan rubbed one wrist and then the other between her hands. She realized only then that her fingers were tingling. They throbbed as the blood flowed into them.

Tegan removed the ankle cuffs, then wrapped a blanket around Michaela.

She cradled Michaela’s face in her hand.

“I’ll be right back.”

Michaela nodded.

When Tegan returned, she was carrying a freshly topped off glass of mineral water, and handed a cold bottle of water to Michaela. It was a relief to her throat, which was sore and dry.

Tegan folded her legs under herself on the sofa, and then patted her hip to summon Michaela to her. Michaela scooted over and leaned against her. Tegan adjusted the blanket, covering Michaela’s shoulder where it slid off. Then she petted her head, and simply watched Michaela while she stroked her, no words between them. Michaela sipped her water, and watched back, and wondered what Tegan saw.

“You don’t have to push yourself to the raw edge every single time,” Tegan said, finally. “There’s no shame in saying you’ve had enough.”

Michaela considered. She wanted to say  _ yes there is _ , to argue that if she couldn’t take it, if she were weak, she wouldn’t be here at all.

“I like it.” She raised her chin.

Tegan sipped her bubbly water, smiling into her glass.

“And I like determined girls like you.”

She took Michaela’s jaw firmly in her hand, and pressed in for a kiss. Tegan’s mouth tasted clean, with a slightly bitter mineral taste, as she stroked her tongue between Michaela’s parted lips.

She released her jaw and stood.

“Dress. We’re finished for today.”

Tegan turned and walked upstairs.

 

* * *

 

Asher would be awake. He always waited up for her on these nights. As she dressed, she thought about pushing him down between her legs and holding him there, pulling him up by his hair, pinching and biting and bruising him, climbing on top and riding him.  

He wouldn’t last very long. She would need to time everything just right.

She frowned. She was turned all the way on. She wouldn’t need things to last very long, in all honesty. Still, needing to control all the details didn’t appeal to her.

Tegan’s basement door let out next to her kitchen, all white and stainless steel, perfectly clean, and empty.

She walked down the hall and found Tegan in her living room. She sat cross-legged in a brown leather chair, paging through a file. A drink sat on the end table next to her, something orange-pink in color, with the square ice and a cherry floating in it.

Michaela waited in the entrance until Tegan looked up.

“Something you need before you go?”

Michaela fought the urge to avert her eyes.

“You kissed me.”

The other woman arched a single eyebrow.

“You’ve never done that before,” Michaela continued nervously.

Tegan’s lips curled into a smile.

“Yes. I wanted to do that. What do  _ you _ want?”

Michaela took a breath, flustered.

“I just wanted to know why. But I guess it was, just,” she took another breath, and shook her head. “Like you said.”

She felt dumb. She thought of Asher again. She would be mean to him tonight, and she would feel bad about that if he didn’t like it so much.

Tegan nodded, still smiling. “So if there’s nothing else you want tonight, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

Michaela drove home. By the time Asher was asleep and snoring, she was still turning Tegan’s last words over in her head.

_ If there’s nothing else you want _ .


End file.
